


hush now, let's go quiet to the park

by ginnydear



Category: Love Simon (2018), Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: Alternate Universe, Coming Out, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Spierfeld Week, this is too cute even for myself like when i say fluff i MEAN IT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 16:09:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14264748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginnydear/pseuds/ginnydear
Summary: “Yeah, but I’m not brave enough to sit next to someone I don’t know on the first day of school and be their friend,” Bram says after a moment, and Simon looks over at him with a smile that Bram’s come to realize is uniquely Simon. It pulls more at the right side of his mouth than the left. Bram’s stomach flutters a little, but he refuses to look away.“Thanks,” Simon’s voice is quiet, but it travels in the lull of conversation from the courts, and Bram can hear his sincerity.they meet the first day of freshman year, unlikely gym partners. spierfeld week, day one.





	hush now, let's go quiet to the park

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to [SPIERFELD WEEK](https://spierfeldweek.tumblr.com/) kids! here's my day one contribution to the cause, a little alternate first meeting prompt from the every wonderful amanda. shoutout, as always, so the the salad squad. 
> 
> major props to my wonderful beta, [Caitlin](http://ginnyweaslays.tumblr.com) for literally receiving after i spent all night writing it, riddled with mistakes. she's a saint. 
> 
> title is from 'in your arms' by kina grannis, which is honestly this fic's theme song. check it out.

**Summer.**

It’s too hot to sit outside on the blacktop, so the PE classes all meet inside the gym on the first day of school. Bram follows everyone else inside with his head down, hands gripping the straps of his backpack. He’s the new kid, doesn’t know a single person’s name yet really, so he looks for the teachers name and sits in that section of bleachers off by himself.

He’s looking at his hands when someone sits down next to him, and he vaguely recognizes the backpack as it settles between the persons legs. When he looks up, he vaguely recognizes the person too.

“Bram, right?” the boy says, and Bram nods his head.

“We have science together, first period. Simon,” he says, and Bram nods as he remembers.

“Yeah,” he says, and that’s the end of it.

Their teacher is a short, loud man, who passes out a syllabus and a unit schedule. It appears that he’s really into two-person sports, as they have tennis, badminton, and even dance on the list. One of the girls in the front row raises her hand as he gets to that part.

“Yes?” Mr. Jones asks, and the girl lowers her hand.

“Are these partner dances or individual?” she asks, and he kinda laughs. Bram doesn’t know how he feels about him yet.

“Almost every unit we do is a partner unit, so pick someone to be your partner now because you’ll be stuck with them most of the year.”

Beside Bram, Simon shifts slightly, and when he looks over, Simon’s folding the syllabus in his hands.

“The same partner, for the whole year?” the same girl asks, and Mr. Jones nods carefully.

“Yep. That’s actually all we’re going to do today. Find a partner, and get to know them.”

Everyone looks at each other, and swallowing every single anxious feeling he has, Bram turns to look at Simon. Simon’s staring straight ahead, his glasses slipping off his nose slightly. Bram’s struck by the sudden thought that he’s rather cute, but he pushes that away.

“So,” Bram says, and Simon smiles at him.

“I’m not good at _any_ sports,” Simon says as a warning, and Bram shrugs.

“That’s fine,” he says sincerely, and Simon’s smile gets just a bit wider.

“So, are you like, new to town? I don’t remember seeing you in middle school,” Simon says as a way to break the ice, and Bram nods.

“My mom and I moved here over the summer.”

“Where from?”

“Savannah,” Bram turns on the bleachers so they’re facing each other, and Simon mimics his position.

“So, not terrible. But it still sucks starting in a new school not knowing anyone,” Simon sounds empathetic. Bram likes that.

“I met a few people at the summer soccer camp, but none of them are in my classes,” Bram says, clearing his throat to speak a little louder over the noise in the gym.

“Oh, you play soccer? Was one of the kids Nick Eisner?”

“I think so? He never stopped talking about Ronaldo,” Bram says, and Simon laughs.

“Yeah, that’s Nick. He’s one of my best friends, I met him in kindergarten.”

“So you’ve lived here your whole life then?” Bram says with a chuckle, and Simon nods.

“Oh yeah. My parents graduated from this school. My dad’s name is on a bunch of stuff in the trophy cases because he was team captain for the football team for like, three years,” Simon says, rolling his eyes. He’s smiling though, so Bram smiles back at him.

They continue to talk as the period progresses. At the end of the period, after Mr. Jones has gone over obtaining PE clothes and when they’ll get their lockers, Simon turns to Bram.

“Since you know Nick, and now you know me,” he grins, and Bram smiles in return, “do you want to come eat lunch with us? I have like, one other friend, but she’s cool.”

Bram feels some of the anxiety of the day dissipate from his stomach. He nods.

“Thanks,” he says, and Simon just smiles at him, wide and genuine.

“Of course,” is all he says as they head towards the cafeteria.

**Autumn.**

Simon wasn’t lying. He’s terrible at sports.

Their first unit is tennis, and while Bram can somewhat keep enough coordination to hit the ball with a racquet instead of his feet, Simon’s a lot less adept. The class is split into two groups based on ability, and Bram’s not at all upset to be with the kids who need a little extra practice hitting the ball. They line up against the wall of the gym, each pair a few feet apart, to work on volleying the ball.

Bram does ten easy, and then Simon steps up, his hand gripping the racquet. When Bram steps back, Mr. Jones walks over to him quietly. It’s weird when he isn’t yelling. He’s a lot less intimidating now that they’ve all realized he’s all bark and no bite, but still.

“You know, if you want to switch to a partner that’s more your athletic speed, you can,” Mr. Jones says, and Bram watches as Simon successfully hits a ball back against the wall. He misses it on the rebound though, but he looks proud of himself as he runs over to grab the ball, smiling at Bram.

“I’m good,” Bram replies, and Mr. Jones smiles at him.

“Good kid,” Mr. Jones says before walking away.

When Bram walks back up to where Simon is standing, he smiles at him.

“I have a new personal record,” Simon says, and Bram quirks an eyebrow. “Three in a row.”

Bram laughs kindly, reaching out to take the ball from Simon, nudging his shoulder.

“Watch me,” he says softly, and Simon steps back as Bram bounces the ball off the wall, lets it hit the ground, and then steps back to keep the volley going. He gets into a rhythm, easily keeping the ball going for more than ten sets. He hits the ball a bit harder on the last volley, and it ends up bouncing up over his head on the rebound. Simon runs to catch it.

“Why are we partners again?” Simon asks, and Bram grins.

“Because you’re a nice person who sits next to new kids on the first day of school,” Bram says, and he’s fascinated by the color that blooms on Simon’s cheeks.

\---

It’s probably a good thing they did tennis first, because it means once they move on to badminton, Simon’s marginally more coordinated.

Not the best. But he’s holding his own.

They play on courts set up in the gym, in a rotation that brings the best teams to fight it out on the Kings Court. There are more teams than courts though, so Bram and Simon find themselves sitting on the bleachers watching the two best teams of the day in an impressive volley while Mr. Jones watches and cheers them on.

Simon sits back and lets himself fall into the space between the bleachers, leaning his arms on his knees and setting his chin there. Bram brings his eyebrows together at the position, but doesn’t say anything.

“I’m not _terrible_ at badminton,” Simon says after a moment, and Bram shakes his head.

“Better than tennis, which is odd, because the shuttlecock is smaller than a tennis ball,” Bram says, and Simon giggles under his breath.

“Might not the best game to play with immature teenage boys, though,” Simon says, remembering the way one of the jocks in the class had yelled ‘shuttlecock’ multiple times their first day of play. Bram shrugs.

“It’ll be about as bad as golf,” he says, and Simon looks up at him to grin.

“I’m actually okay at golf,” he says, and Bram raises an eyebrow.

“Oh?”

“My dad’s taken me before, as a bonding exercise. It’s one of the only sports I’m relatively good at, so,” Simon shrugs, and it feels a little self-deprecating, so Bram sinks down into the bleachers much like Simon’s sitting and gets himself comfortable before he speaks.

“Hey, you’re better at sports than some people,” Bram says, and Simon chuckles.

“My little sister? She can throw a perfect spiral. My dad looked like he was going to cry.”

“I can’t throw a perfect spiral,” Bram counters.

“But you can play soccer, and tennis, and other sports,” Simon says, and Bram’s pretty sure this has been chewing at Simon for a lot longer than since the beginning of class.

“Yeah, but I’m not brave enough to sit next to someone I don’t know on the first day of school and be their friend,” Bram says after a moment, and Simon looks over at him with a smile that Bram’s come to realize is uniquely Simon. It pulls more at the right side of his mouth more than the left. Bram’s stomach flutters a little, but he refuses to look away.

“Thanks,” Simon’s voice is quiet, but it travels in the lull of conversation from the courts, and Bram can hear his sincerity.

“Greenfeld, Spier, you’re up!” Mr. Jones calls, and they jump at his loud voice.

They make it all the way to the second court, where they stay, and the smile on Simon’s face at being named the second best team of the day is enough for Bram.

\---

Bram’s lacing up his soccer cleats when Nick sits down next to him, already smiling. Nick spent more time smiling than anyone Bram had ever met.

“Simon and Leah are coming over on Friday, to hang out in my basement and play video games. You’re invited as well, if you can come,” Nick says, and Bram looks at him carefully. It feels like there’s something Nick is holding back, but he doesn’t offer anything, so Bram eventually nods.

“I’ll ask my mom,” he says, and Nick claps him on the knee before he gets up and runs out of the locker room.

\---

“Are you coming on Friday?”

Bram’s standing at his locker, already changed into his PE clothes, when Simon walks up to him, pulling his shirt down over his head.

“Yeah, Nick asked me yesterday,” Bram says, and Simon grins.

“Good! Maybe now I’ll have someone to talk to while Leah and Nick play video games,” he says as they move to walk out to the blacktop.

“You don’t play with them?”

“There’s two controllers, and they’re much more competitive than I am,” Simon explains, and Bram laughs. “I usually end up playing solitaire and being forced to take a side in their arguments.”

“I challenge you to an epic game of go fish,” Bram says, and Simon lights up.

“Oh, you’re on.”

They’re taking a quiz that day, on what they remember about the technical parts of badminton, so they go into the little classroom the PE classes use for this very purpose and find seats. Simon and Bram squeeze into two at the very back. The papers are passed back, along with pencils, and everyone’s quiet as they work, Mr. Jones roaming up and down the aisles to watch them.

Simon finishes before Bram, turning his paper over quietly and setting down his pencil. Mr. Jones walks over and confirms that he’s done before taking Simon’s paper. Bram finishes a moment later, and offers his paper to Mr. Jones when he holds out his hand.

Simon’s foot comes into contact with Bram’s, and he looks up to see Simon balancing his pencil on his nose. Bram stifles a laugh and picks his pencil up, balances it on his finger, and Simon’s pencil falls to his desk and he squints at Bram. Carefully, Bram places the pencil on his nose and moves it until it’s balanced. He crosses his eyes to look at it and Simon lets out a giggle. Mr. Jones turns to look at them, and Bram drops the pencil into his hands.

“If you boys are so full of energy and fun, go walk around the track while everyone finishes,” he whispers at them, and they get up and slink out of the room quietly. Bram can see a few others have finished, but they quickly flip their papers back over at the prospect of being outside on the track.

Once the door has shut and they’re far enough away from the classroom that they’re sure Mr. Jones can’t hear them, they burst out laughing. Simon leans against Bram as they stop, both of them wrapping their arms around their middles.

“He’s so terrifying sometimes,” Bram says once they calm down, remaining close as they begin walking the loop of the track. Their hands brush between them, and Bram pulls his arms up across his chest. He’d thought about wearing his jacket, but hadn’t because he hadn’t expected to be out on the track.

“There are times when he’s almost like a fun dad, and then he suddenly turns into a massive dick,” Simon mumbles, pulling his arms inside his shirt. Bram bites his bottom lip to keep from laughing, Simon catching this out of the corner of his eye. He flushes when he looks up at Bram.

“What?”

“Nothing, that just looks weird,” Bram laughs, and Simon sticks his tongue out. Bram bumps his shoulder into Simon, and he stumbles a bit, bringing his arms out of his shirt to balance himself. Bram laughs, skipping ahead slightly, the butterflies turning into giddiness in his stomach.

“Rude!” Simon yells, jogging to catch up with Bram, pushing him slightly when he does. Bram scoffs at him, but they’re both laughing, the cold and their punishment forgotten. Bram reaches out to tickle Simon’s sides and he shrieks, pushing Bram’s hands away and running off. Bram smiles before he runs after him.

When Mr. Jones comes out to get them later, he gives them a knowing look as they rush into the gym.

**Winter.**

Simon’s better than Bram at golf. Mr. Jones looks the most surprised of them all.

They’re out on the inner field of the track, everyone wearing sweatshirts and school approved sweat pants. Simon’s hood is up over his ears as he leans on his golf club, something Mr. Jones has told them not to do, but Simon was barely paying attention. Bram was trying to just hit the ball and move it, even an inch, towards the pancake sized hoop on the grass.

“Michaels, what did I tell you about that?” Mr. Jones yells, and Simon and Bram look over to see Chris Michaels standing behind Brittney Arbor. Simon looks at Bram and they both laugh under their breath.

Bram hits the ball when he swings, and the ball moves across the grass until it’s just outside the hoop. Simon notes the slouch in Bram’s shoulders as he moves over to get the ball, whistling as he uses his foot to push the ball into the hoop.

“Well, would you look at that! A hole in one,” Simon says, turning to smile widely at Bram. Bram knows his face is showing much more than he intends, because Simon’s cheeks pink significantly, but he doesn’t care.

“Would you look at that,” Bram says slowly, catching the golf ball when Simon tosses it to him. Bram places the ball on the tee once more, fixing his grip on the club. Simon’s watching his hands, and when Bram finally settles them, Simon shakes his head.

“Bring your right hand up a little bit, cover your thumb,” Simon says as he walks over, touching Bram’s hands softly. Bram shifts his hands again, keeping his thumbs pointed down the club. Simon nods and moves to stand out of Bram’s range.

Bram hits the ball and this time it moves right into the center of the circle. He drops the club and holds his hands up above his head, turning to smile at Simon.

“Ah-HA!” he says triumphantly, and Simon moves over so they can high five. Bram resists the urge for only a second before he gives in and nudges his shoulder into Simon's.

“Now just do that, from farther away,” Simon says, and Bram shakes his head.

“No, I’m done now, I’ve accomplished all I can and I don’t want to try anymore,” he jokes, and Simon barks a laugh. Mr. Jones walks over and eyes them carefully, and Bram has a feeling he knows something even Bram doesn’t know. It’s unnerving.

“How’s he doing, Spier?” Mr. Jones asks, and Simon turns so he’s facing the teacher.

“He finally has the hang of the grip,” Simon says, and Mr. Jones actually smiles.

“You two are quite the team,” he says before he moves away. Simon looks over at Bram, and they smile at each other.

\---

_Simon: hey, i’m outside walking Bieber_

_Bram: coming_

Bram jogs up the driveway, his soccer sweater big around his body. Simon’s wearing a beanie over his hair, and his hood is up as well, and Bram thanks the weather gods for the current cold spell. It has everything to do with the ability to wear a sweater, Bram rationalizes, and nothing to do with how cute Simon looks in a beanie.

“Why are you walking the dog on the coldest day of the year?” Bram asks, and Simon laughs softly as Bieber jumps up to lick at any part of Bram he can get too. Pulling on the dog's leash, Simon starts walking again.

“Because my sister has some friends over and they’re all annoying,” Simon says bitterly, but then he smiles as Bieber pulls on the leash. “Also, Bieber deserves all the walks.”

“Who’s walking who right now?” Bram says, and Simon snaps the leash, Bieber heeling quickly, looking up at Simon expectantly. Simon reaches down and pats the dog's head as they keep walking.

“He gets over excited. My mom somehow applied human psychology to him and got him to be completely obedient. He’ll sit at an intersection if you tell him to,” Simon says, and Bram’s eyes widen.

“Your mom sounds a little scary,” Bram says, and Simon nods his head enthusiastically.

“Oh, not a little. She’s definitely scary.”

Their shoulders knock together, and Bram smiles at the familiarity of it. They’re quiet as they continue walking around the block, down towards the park that’s set in their neighborhood. Bieber starts making noise as they get closer, and Bram looks at Simon to see him rolling his eyes.

“Biebs loves to play with the kids,” Simon looks at Bram, and their eyes meet for a moment as they smile.

“Biebs, I don’t think there’s going to be that many kids here today,” Simon says, and the dog looks up at him. With a sigh, they turn the corner to see a few kids on the swings, wrapped up in warm coats, and Simon smiles.

“The only reason we take him here is because it’s enclosed so he can go off his leash and he won’t run away,” Simon says as he opens the park gate that comes up to his chest, Bieber dancing excitedly at his side. Bram watches with a smile as Simon undoes the leash and Bieber runs off, sniffing around the fence eagerly.

Simon walks over to the play structure, hopping up the steps easily until he’s at the top, standing in front of the slide. Bram follows him, a little slower, and comes up to stand next to Simon at the top. Simon’s leaning back against the railing, and Bram leans across from him, and they’re quiet for a moment. Simon’s eyes are following Bieber, so when Bram moves towards the slide, he jumps.

“Not it,” Bram says, touching Simon’s leg before he pushes himself down the slide. He hears Simon balk, looking over the edge to glare down at him.

“That’s really unfair, you’re much faster than I am,” Simon says, and Bram crosses his arms.

“Fine, I won’t move until you’re halfway down the slide.”

“All the way.”

“Three quarters.”

Simon pushes himself down the slide and Bram moves before he means too, running away towards the monkey bars. He can hear Simon behind him, and he runs around the play structure to the stairs, jumping up and towards the hanging bridge in the middle. Simon stops when he realizes where Bram is, standing at the midpoint of the bridge, a smile on his face.

“This is still – wildly unfair,” Simon huffs out, and Bram just smiles.

“You don’t have to chase me, you aren’t that competitive,” Bram says, and Simon narrows his eyes. Bieber runs over to him, jumping up so his front paws are on the lowest part of the bridge, eyes moving between Bram and Simon.

“I’m not completely devoid of pride,” Simon says, and Bram covers up his laugh with a cough. Simon’s cheeks are bright pink, a combination of exertion and the cold weather, and Bram’s really glad he can’t blush visibly.

“So you’re a little competitive,” Bram says rhetorically, and Simon rolls his eyes.

“I beat you at go fish,” Simon says, jutting out his chin. Bram nods slowly.

“I won Gin,” he says, and Simon’s mouth opens almost involuntarily.

“You cheated at Gin,” he accuses again, and Bram laughs, using the distraction to back down the stairs and run around the bridge between them towards the shorter slides in the middle of the play structure.

“I would never cheat,” Bram yells as he goes, climbing up the slides so he’s safe on the structure. Simon glares at him from where he stands at the bottom of the slides. He walks away, walking up the stairs at the opposite end, moving over the bridge, and standing on the platform below Bram.

“No, you wouldn’t,” Simon says sincerely, and Bram’s thrown for a bit of a loop. He stares at Simon for a moment, and that’s all the hesitation Simon needs to leap up onto the level Bram’s on and grab Bram’s shoulders. Bram yells in shock, and then they break into laughter, Bram leaning forward until his head lands on Simon’s shoulder.

“That was cheating,” Bram says petulantly, standing up straight. Simon’s hands are still on his shoulders, and he pulls them back slowly.

“If I couldn’t win with my amazing athletic ability,” Bram snorts so suddenly he covers his mouth, Simon grinning. “Then I had to win with my quick wit.”

Bram sinks down against the side of the structure, and Simon follows him down, sitting side by side. They’re hidden away from the world, the walls of the play structure and the slide surrounding them. Simon lets out a sigh as he relaxes, pulling his hands inside of his jacket. Bram pulls his hood up slightly to keep the cold wind off his neck.

Bieber scrambles up the walkway until he’s sitting at Simon’s feet, plopping down and sighing loudly. Bram giggles at that, reaching down to scratch behind the dog’s ear. His shoulder bumps into Simon’s, and Simon nudges him back. When he sits up, he turns his head to find Simon already looking at him, their faces close enough that Bram can make out every beautiful contour of Simon’s eyes.

Bram’s worldview narrows to the gray of Simon’s eyes, hidden behind his glasses and long eyelashes that sweep across his cheeks when he blinks. Simon’s lips part slightly, a little of the color in his cheeks finally draining, and Bram’s brain is short circuiting. He feels like he needs to say something, needs to mark this moment in time, because it feels important, and it won’t stay important if all they do is stare at each o-

Simon’s phone goes off, startling them both. As Simon reaches into his pocket to pull his phone out, Bram realizes they’ve been leaning into each other.

**Spring.**

The dance unit makes everyone a little antsy.

Everyone had paired off with friends in the beginning, which means that most of the guys in the class are paired together. Bram thinks this was all part of Mr. Jones’ plan, watching the teacher as he walks around the multi-purpose room they’ve taken over. Simon nudges Bram’s shoulder, and when he looks over, Simon jerks his head towards where Chris Michaels and Rob Jefferson are standing next to each other awkwardly.

“Serves them right for being the best at badminton,” Simon says quietly, and Bram chuckles to himself, adverting his eyes when Mr. Jones looks at them.

“We’re going to be starting with something simple,” Mr. Jones says, looking over at the TA he’d stolen from Mrs. Pimrose, the sophomore PE teacher, just for the dance unit. Mikey is a senior, and everything about him oozes a calm sort of confidence that makes him completely immune to the freshmen giggling at the fact that he’s about to dance with Mr. Jones.

Mr. Jones and Mikey (who had obviously gone through all of this himself in a PE class before) teach the basic steps of the swing dance, and Bram smiles when he realizes how simple this will be, much like kicking a soccer ball. He looks at Simon to see he’s smiling too, following along to what Mr. Jones is saying.

They break off into their pairs after, Simon and Bram towards the back of the class, and for a moment they just stare at each other, unsure how to proceed.

“Y’all gotta pick who’s the leader!” Mr. Jones yells over the music, set up on a constant stream for people to pick when they want to start, allowing the pairs to work autonomously. Bram looks over to see that most of the male partners are struggling. He sighs and holds out his hand.

“We can switch?” he says, and Simon laughs as he nods.

“We can see who’s a better leader,” he says, and Bram laughs now.

“If there are spins involved, I’m going to lead, you’re too short to spin me,” Bram teases, and Simon pinches his arm as they settle into the position. Bram can feel the muscles in his arms twitching as he places his hand on Simon’s waist, the other clasping his hand. It’s a lot for his brain to handle, so he focuses on the music.

“If you can’t find the beat, you can’t lead,” Simon’s teasing him, and Bram sticks out his tongue before counting off.

It’s awkward at first, partially because they’re teenagers and everything they do is awkward, but also because there’s this feeling that’s settled around them since that day in the park that Bram can’t really articulate. He wishes he had the words to explain, but his mind goes blank and he’s left with more frustration than order. They figure out their footwork after a couple tries, and it’s when Simon hangs his head and laughs that the awkwardness breaks around them, shattering glass, and Bram feels his chest release.

“This can’t be that hard,” Bram says as they set up again, waiting for the song to change. Mr. Jones is watching them from near the front, a small smile on his face.

“ _Five, six, seven, eight,_ ” Bram counts, and then they’re doing the basic step, their feet moving in the correct directions, and they smile at each other. They continue for a moment, eyes still locked together, completely missing when Mr. Jones walks up to them.

“So now, boys, that you have it,” he says, startling them out of keeping rhythm. He shows them how to add in the eighth count, an extra step, to liven up the dance, make it more fun. Simon’s watching Mr. Jones’ feet intensely as he moves, and it almost looks like he’s skipping sideways. Bram relates it to soccer drills. It all makes sense in his head.

Execution leads to more laughing as they step on each other toes, and then they’re getting it, still laughing as they bounce the basic steps. Their only goal for the day was to get that right, and so Mr. Jones pats them on the back and tells them they can hang around, or help someone else if they want. They choose to head to the back of the room and sit against the wrestling mats.

“I’m never going to tire of watching Mr. Jones try to teach Greg to dance,” Bram says, and Simon chuckles. Everyone’s beginning to realize, upon seeing Simon and Bram sit down, that once they get the steps, they’re off the hook, and it’s given everyone a reason to try. Mikey is walking around readjusting people, and giving out advice. Mr. Jones is still working with Greg.

“I thought dance would be more awkward,” Simon says, and Bram shrugs.

“It’s only awkward if you make it,” he replies, to which Simon hums.

“There’s more steps to swing, you know,” Simon says, and Bram nods slowly.

“Spins, dips, fancy footwork, lots of close body touching,” Simon continues, and Bram looks at him. He’s smirking, looking at the dance floor as most of the class has gotten to sit down. It’s just a few guys left.

“I promise I won’t drop you,” Bram says, and Simon laughs suddenly, catching the attention of kids nearby. He covers his mouth, leaning down into his knees to hide his face. Bram finds himself laughing too, reaching over to nudge Simon’s shoulder.

“I’d sure hope not, what have I ever done to you?” Simon asks, and Bram holds back the words his brain thinks.

\---

Their dance final is stressing Bram out.

They have to remain on beat, in step, in the proper positions, for an entire song. Mr. Jones hadn’t told them how long the song will be. He hadn’t even told them which style they’d be doing. Everyone is assuming swing, because of how he’s made a couple hints. But Bram isn't sure, and he knows that if he's forced to do his final on square dancing, he’ll fail.

Square dancing had been miserable, for everyone.

They are in the park again, Simon and Bram, and they’re sitting shoulder to shoulder up by the tallest slide.

“Square dancing was only bad because you hate country music,” Simon says, and Bram gasps.

“No, Simon, don’t tell me you like country music, that’s unforgivable,” Bram puts his hand to his chest, going for as much drama as he can, and Simon laughs hard, his eyes squeezing shut behind his glasses.

“No, I don’t, but you gotta admit that half of your dislike for the dance was the music,” Simon gets out once he’s calmed down, and Bram glares at him.

“It’s the worst part of living in the south,” Bram says, and he watches as Simon’s face flickers an unknown emotion.

“Oh, there are worse parts,” he grumbles, and Bram bites his lower lip. Every piece of their friendship is playing back in his mind, and he’s terrible at reading situations but he’s also hoping Simon’s saying exactly what Bram thinks he’s saying.

“You mean the humidity?” Bram deflects, and Simon lets out an exasperated sigh.

“God, the humidity. I always forget how bad it truly gets,” he says, his hand stretching out across the top of their knees. It’s a warm day, the sun shining unencumbered by clouds, but Simon’s skin on his exposed knee is warmer. Bram forces himself to laugh.

Simon leaves his arm across their knees, his palm facing up, and Bram’s mentally making a list of the reasons not to act on this weird thing when Simon pulls his hand back, and his palm ends up resting on Bram’s knee.

The world doesn’t turn on its axis, and the sky doesn’t open up to swallow him whole like he wishes it would, but Bram’s stomach is erupting in butterflies and elephants and so many animals he can’t think. There’s something lodging itself in his throat, words he’s been meaning to say to literally anyone who will listen but can never seem to get out, and he’s trying to remember that list he was making not but seven seconds ago.

He must’ve tensed up, because Simon mumbles something and starts to pull his hand away. Bram panics for a moment before he reaches out and grabs Simon’s hand where it’s sliding down back into Simon’s lap, pulling it up and into the sunlight. He can feel Simon turn to look at him, knows exactly what his eyes are going to look like when Bram turns his head, but he’s still not prepared.

Simon’s face is blank, his mouth open slightly and his eyes so wide it looks like it must hurt. Bram tries to formulate words, get something out of his mouth, but he just looks like a fish out of water.

“Simon?” he whispers, his hands starting to shake. He’s scared of the fact that he can’t read Simon’s face, can’t decipher what he’s thinking. But then Simon smiles, and squeezes his hand, the answer to Bram’s unspoken question.

Bram leans forward slowly, and he watches in slow motion as Simon leans forward too, and then his eyes are closed and there’s sunlight on his lips. His hands stop shaking, the elephants in his chest calm, and the words lodged in his throat reach his brain. In the short moment their lips meet, everything’s much clearer than it’s been in years.

“I – are you, I mean,” Simon babbles when they pull apart, eyes opening slowly to look at each other. Bram smiles, pulling their clasped hands down between them and running his thumb over Simon’s soft skin.

“Gay? Uh, yeah,” Bram breathes out, and Simon’s eyes light up, honest to god sunlight.

“Yeah. Me too, gay,” Simon says the word hesitantly, and Bram leans forward a bit, gauging Simon’s reaction before he leans in for another soft kiss.

“We’re so coherent,” Bram laughs, their foreheads pressed together. Simon huffs out a laugh, the hot air causing a shiver to run up Bram’s spine. He pulls away, leaning back against the wall, Simon following suit. Gently, Bram nudges him with his shoulder. Simon nudges back.

**Summer II.**

They’re out to a small group of the necessary people, which means that when Simon texts everyone that his family is inviting them all over for a backyard barbecue, Bram knows he can hold Simon’s hand during dinner.

Bram walks over with a bowl of potato salad in his hands, courtesy of his mother, who had smiled warmly at him when he’d asked if he could go. She’d been so patient and loving when he’d come out to her, one night over dinner. She’d given him a little sarcasm for dating someone white, but then she’d laughed and told him she was proud of him.

He’s thinking about all of this when he rings the doorbell of the Spier house. He can hear Nora screaming somewhere inside, along with Nick shouting something, and then the door opens and Simon’s standing there, smiling at him. Bram almost forgets how to breathe. Again.

“Hi,” Simon says, stepping back and letting him in.

“Hi. My mom sends her well wishes and this potato salad,” he says as the door closes, looking around quickly before pressing a soft kiss to Simon’s cheek. A blush replaces his lips and he’s jealous of the color there, its ability to exist so openly where his kisses cannot.

“Delicious, I told my mom not to make any,” Simon says, his voice a little strained as he walks the potato salad into the kitchen, putting it away in the fridge. Once it’s out of Simon’s hands he reaches over and wraps his arms around Bram’s middle. Bram sighs happily as he wraps his arms around Simon’s shoulders.

They stand in the kitchen in silence for a few minutes, arms locked tight around each other, breathing in sync. Bram’s aware that someone walks by, but no one says anything to them. He can hear Garrett and Nick arguing in the backyard, and he’s pretty sure Nora’s somewhere in the house humming to herself.

“Hi,” Bram says when Simon’s arms loosen and they look at each other. There’s no thought process behind leaning in and kissing Simon in his own kitchen, but Bram does it anyway. When they break apart, Simon’s smiling.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

\---

There’s a large wooden table with benches, some lawn chairs, a pop-up hammock, and a large grill set up in one area of the backyard. Leah and Nora are sitting in the grass near Mrs. Spier’s flowerbed, pulling at weeds and talking quietly. Nick is lounging on the hammock after fighting Garrett for it when Mrs. Spier pulled it out of the garage. Garrett’s found a person to talk to about college sports with Mr. Spier, both of them standing at the grill and talking loudly.

Bram looks down as Simon shifts, moving his legs so they’re up over the arm of the chair they’re both sitting in. Mrs. Spier had given them a warm look when they’d sat down in it earlier. Simon has an arm around Bram’s back and the other holding Bram’s free hand.

“There are other chairs,” Leah says quietly to them as she walks by, and Simon sticks his tongue out at her.

“Mature,” Bram whispers, though he’s laughing softly. Simon smiles up at him, their noses inches apart, but they just continue to smile. It’s been about three months since that day on the playground, and they’ve come to quiet agreements about public displays of affection.

“Okay, food's ready!” Mr. Spier calls as Mrs. Spier comes out the back door carrying bowls of food. Leah follows her, holding condiments and a couple packages of buns. Simon gets off Bram’s lap and offers a hand to help him up, though they both know it isn’t necessary.

“Leah, I have the pieces of lettuce for your alternative bun-“

“Do we have pickles?”

“Pickles? We have relish.”

“That’s gross.”

Bram sits down next to Simon at the large wooden table, taking a plate with a burger and bun on it when Mr. Spier hands it to him. There’s a lot of shuffling and commotion as everyone goes to make their burgers, and Bram sits back and watches for a moment. Simon’s talking to Nick, who’s sitting across the table and complaining about the lack of pickles, his eyes bright behind his glasses.

“Bram, sweetheart, do you need anything?” Mrs. Spier asks him, and Simon turns to look at him, his hand reaching up on the table to give Bram’s hand a squeeze. Theoretically, there’s nothing in the world Bram needs other than the warmth of Simon’s hand in his, but he knows that’s not what she’s asking.

“The ketchup, please?” Bram says.

He bumps into Simon’s shoulder as he leans back, and Simon’s face lights up as he nudges him back.

**Author's Note:**

> feedback is always appreciated. keep an eye out, there's more spierfeld week fics to come! 
> 
> find me on [tumblr](http://emilyspier.tumblr.com)


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